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I was listening to a TED Talk on my way to work a while ago and wanted to share a segment that had an impact on me. I don’t know if it will impact you in the same ways, and I hope there’s some meaning in it for you. The presenter, Caroline Casey, talked about challenges in her life and her commitment to make a difference for people who are like her. The clip below should start at 12:11 (if it doesn’t, just fast forward to that part).

“All of the other 1 billion people affected by disability, but it’s not just about disability. We’re just people. We don’t have a Bono (e.g., DATA, EDUN, ONE Campaign, Product Red) or a Nelson Mandela… We need them. It needs to be talked about… Think about the James Bond movies. All the criminals have a disability.”

This part of the talk resonated with me because when marriage is part of the political spotlight, there’s a huge bump in talk of all things gay. Some of it is positive, microaggressive, passive aggressive, and most of it is just plain ol’ aggressive.

The top three aggressive comments usually go something like this:

The gay lifestyle leads to AIDS/HIV and other horrible diseases. (Then insert something about STIs being God’s punishment on gay and lesbian people.)

Gay and lesbian people have 100s of sexual partners each year. Promiscuity, bla bla bla.

If we let people get gay married, people will also start having sex with their pets and want to marry them.

It can seem silly to be affected by uneducated comments like these. The heart of the issue sheds more light on why these comments can be so problematic when we know the people making the comments are jerks by trade. And the heart of the issue relates to Caroline’s comment:

We don’t have a Bono. We don’t have a Nelson Mandela.

I don’t want to trivialize the work of activists around the globe who do wonderful things. Groups that come to mind are PFLAG and The Treveor Project, to name just two. What I want to comment on is who are our Bonos and Nelson Mandelas when it comes to same-sex relationships? Who are our mentors? our examples? Not to say we can’t pull strength from the examples of our parents, friends, and co-workers because we do.

There just isn’t anyone out there like us — that we know of. As Caroline pointed out about people with disabilities in the media, they’re usually the villains. And we’re usually the villains. Gay people are most often the villains and examples of what not to become, examples of bad relationships.

Salon named a few back in 2012. From the shows I watch there’s Cam and Mitch of Modern Family. They’re not necessarily villains, but they fight a lot and rarely kiss. One BuzzFeeder crunched some surprising numbers:

There’s Nolan of Revenge. His relationships are portrayed as short-lived, obsessive, and a means to some ulterior motive in the plot twist that is Revenge. And there’s David and Bryan of The New Normal… We ate that show up and not because there was great acting, plots, or story line but because the gay couple represented a strong, committed couple. They’re difficult to identify with because hey, it’s Hollywood and the guys are rich, but they’re portrayed as fairly decent people.

And now there’s the question of what happened to The New Normal? It wasn’t popular enough. And if you don’t remember, it was so controversial KSL wouldn’t broadcast it in Utah. Later, KSL decided to air it after hours and/or on the weekend (when trashy shows air). And this gets to the other part of the equation: they’re aren’t as many narratives out there for gay people (in part because society isn’t welcoming).

What do you think? Have you noticed similar tends in the media? Do you disagree? Share your thoughts.

Dan and I have been offered jobs in Maryland, which has spurred a few important discussion in our home. Same-sex marriage will soon be legal in Maryland, and same-sex marriage is legal in a few close-by areas including Massachusetts and Washington D.C. This brings up questions about our last names: What should we do — hyphenate? Pick one of our last names? Or take a completely new last name?

After a little research I learned it’s not quite that easy for same-sex couples to change their last names after marriage. Having the same last name might make it easier if one of us were ever admitted to a hospital; having a hyphenated last name might make it more likely for us to face discrimination, and having different last names will definitely not help in that situation. One gay couple took on the same last name so they could tell hospital workers they are sisters (in case one of them is ever hospitalized).

Reports from couples online suggest name changes for gays and lesbians are pretty impractical when dealing with government documents on a federal level and often involves stressful court appearances.

“I was excited and nervous at the same time. I was about to become a Palladino! But what if this judge took one look at me and decided to take my very small but important right away, when I barely have any to stand on as it is, when it comes to my marriage with Maria? I was petrified. My name was called, and I had to go before the judge. He was a mere two feet away from my face as he hummed along to a strange tune while he read through my statement.”

One couple reported their passport applications were denied; they had to go to court and explain the reasons why they wanted to change their names. As part of that process they had to publish their intent to change their names in a local newspaper once each week for four weeks: the same thing other people have to do if they want to change their name if that process doesn’t involve marriage. The couple reported “the process was long and an unnecessary reminder that things aren’t exactly equal.”

But what’s in a name? Why would we want to change our names? To me it’s a symbol of a union and a public declaration that we’re establishing our own family and a future together. Because same-sex marriage isn’t recognized on a federal level, it’s the closest thing to marriage we can do to make some kind of official, public declaration of our union and commitment. To all the straight couples out there, you’re lucky the process is a little more simple. I hope for a future time when it’s more simple for gay couples to change their last names, a time when the process is equal.

Whether gay or straight, what was your experience like when you changed your last name (including decisions leading up to the change of name)?

Matthew Brown published a video on Vimeo.com last week (on Valentine’s day) to communicate a powerful message about acceptance of gays and lesbians by society. I thought re-posting the video would be a good way to communicate a similar message in my own words but Brown pulled the video down; the video was meant for his partner’s eyes only. This blogger quoted Brown from the video summary:

This is the Valentine’s Day video by me for my partner, XXXXXXX XXXXX. My partner lives somewhere across the Atlantic. He lives a hidden life because of the way his career, some of his friends, and family might treat him if they found out about him being gay. I’ve made this video for him to show the support and passion toward my Love and human rights. It was supposed to be a private video, solely for my boyfriend’s eyes, but it turned into a statement of fighting for the one you love when I realized I wouldn’t be able to say his name or show his face in the video. XXXXXXX, Happy Valentine’s Day! Someday society will let us feel fully accepted!

A clip from the video To my pixelated boyfriend on Vimeo as posted by storyful.com

I can identify with their experience. Worrying about how people might respond if they find out about our relationship, Dan and I have kept it hidden. Because of things people at one of my job sites say about gays and lesbians, I don’t mention anything about my relationship status. They probably see me as the boring single guy with two cats who sits at home on the weekends. Not being out at this job creates some awkward discussions. A co-worker asked me what my plans were for Valentine’s day. I mentioned I’d be going to dinner at a nice restaurant, and he gave me pointers on how I could impress my (female) date.

While out on Valentine’s day we got plenty of stares. It’s not a common experience in small-town Logan to see two guys sitting together at dinner, apparently. It ruined a portion of the romance to be stared at and whispered about. I guess I understand what zoo animals feel like: you’re constantly on display, every little move. Sometimes we joke about reversing the roles and comment privately on how disgusting it is when straight people hold hands and/or kiss in public.

It’s surprising what people don’t think we see. While driving to campus one day a car full of family pointed and stared while we were stopped at the stoplight. The husband noticed us first (I had my hand on Dan’s shoulder/neck), who then pointed us out to his wife, who then leaned forward to get a good look at the freaky gays, who then pointed us out to her children in the back seat, who then proceeded to stare. They acted surprised when I waved at them. If nothing else, we’ve learned that a sense of humor goes a long way.

When I dropped Dan off on campus, we swapped pecks on the cheek and said goodbye. A passerby noticed and looked back over his shoulder until he disappeared behind the cars and buses. Or there was the time we walked hand-in-hand through a parking lot passing people emptying contents of bags in their backseats and trunks. As we passed, they froze, lowered their voices to a whisper, pointed us out to friends, and snuck secret glances.

Then there are the people who don’t bat an eye; the people who treat us as human. They are the strangers who say hi, wave, smile, and strike up conversation. And there are the strangers who go out of their way to say something nice. We went to Las Vegas on New Years last year. A guy about our age walked up to us as we were watching the fountains at the Bellagio and said, “I just want you guys to know you’re beautiful just the way you are.” It didn’t come across as creepy–it meant a lot to us at the time. They are the people who pause to tell us we look happy as a photographer snaps photos of us (also a true story). They are the people we meet hiking. They are the co-workers (at job sites where we are out) who invite us to social events or ask about our weekend plans. They are former roommates who come over to play video games or go out of their way to make sure we feel comfortable. They are former mission companions and friends who don’t distance themselves. They are the family members who go to lunch with us or invite us over for dinner. They are the extended family members who go out of their way at weddings and other family gatherings to meet Dan and ask about our plans for the future. To them we offer thanks and appreciation.

My intent with this post is not to complain. I hope the juxtaposition of good and bad experiences raises an important question to readers: What would you do? How would you react if you saw a gay couple at dinner on Valentine’s day? Would you keep to yourself, smile, stare, point, talk about them, talk to them?

Gay Mormons (currently and formerly affiliated with the LDS Church) are talking up a storm on social media about Boyd K. Packer’s recent speech to LDS youth. Allies have also joined in the discussion. Believe it or not, allies reside on both sides of the affiliation fence. Despite differences of affiliation with the LDS Church, conversations reveal gay Mormons and their allies are torn. Some voiced concern over the conflict of supporting Boyd K. Packer as a prophet, seer, and revelator but not agreeing with his position (or more appropriately his tone and attitude) on gay issues. Others voiced full support of his views and vowed to stand by him. For example, (Gay) Mormon Guy blogged about Packer’s controversial speech from October of 2010; the post went viral (in Mormon communities and by Mormon standards). I saw it a bunch in my newsfeed on Facebook. Mormons were saying things like this:

See. Not all people who suffer from same-gender attraction are offended by Elder Packer’s talk. Because his words touched the life of this guy, that means Packer is a prophet, and because he’s a prophet that means everything he says is right.

I’m not being critical of Packer’s position as a leader of the LDS Church, and I don’t want it to come across as calling his position as a prophet, seer, and revelator into question either. The truth of those facts is not relevant for this discussion. I simply want to point out the conflict, talk about why it’s an important conflict, and discuss the consequences. First, it is important to understand the larger picture behind the controversy that is Boyd K. Packer.

I actually didn’t find recent talk to seminary students all that controversial. At least not the transcript. As someone in social media pointed out, his facial expression are the controversy. If you want to go to all the trouble, pull up the talk here, skip all the boring stuff and jump to about 42:00 where he starts talking in euphemisms about the gay stuff. Pat attention to his facial expression at 43:19. If you don’t want to go to all the trouble, here’s a screen shot of his face at that point.

Boyd K. Packer of the LDS Church gives a disgusted look while talking to youth about so-called gays and lesbians

Aside from looking pretty old and not so well, I didn’t find the facial expression too problematic. But it doesn’t matter what that facial expression communicates to me. What does the facial expression communicate to young, closeted gay Mormon kids? It’s hard to know, but my own experience with Packer helps me understand what effect his look of disgust might have on them.

In a pamphlet To Young Men Only, Packer shares an experience he had as a mission president in which a young missionary “floored” his companion and replied, “Well, thanks. Somebody had to do it, and it wouldn’t be well for a General Authority to solve the problem that way.” The details of the experience aren’t totally clear, but it is obvious that one missionary is gay (the one who was “floored”) and the other is not (the one who “floored” the other). When that portion of the pamphlet was read to me in a priesthood meeting as a kid (shortly after my bishop at the time learned that I am gay), I remember how I felt and what I thought:

“Is someone going to ‘floor’ me when they find out I’m gay? Am I safe at church? Will my bishop pat them on the back like Elder Packer patted this missionary on the back?”

I became a little anxious about going to church. I had a difficult time interpreting that talk, as a kid, as anything but a license (from a man who speaks with God) to hurt and harm. It scared me to think God, as dictated by one of his servants, wanted my peers to beat the gay out of me. And then what all the guys in my church group who seem gay but probably aren’t gay? Will God help them know the difference between those who are gay and those who seem gay? Or will they just beat up whoever they want and then say, “Eh, it’s okay. This is what God wants (because that’s what his servants want).”

Some pointed out the Church spoke out against bullying gay, lesbian, and bisexual youth and therefore it’s not right to say the Church condones bullying. I understand this point, and I might argue for the same point except for one detail: it says nothing about how kids will react. Just because the Church comes out and says they don’t support or condone bullying does not mean that every gay, lesbian, or bi youth in the church will automatically feel safe nor does it mean they are immune to depression and suicide.

The more I think on this topic, the more I realize LDS Church culture is rife with microaggressions against gays and lesbians. What are microaggressions? Per MicroAggressions.com, microaggressions are about the response “it’s not a big deal”. Maybe you’ve had that response as you’ve read over this. “It’s not a big deal, Ryan. No one is dying here.” Well, this is also about how your power and privilege prevent you from understanding the big deal. It’s about how you remind people in the most subtle ways that they are different and not respectable.

Consider the microaggressions from an interview Packer referenced in his speech. The interview was done by Larry King on President Gordon B. Hinckley. Here’s a small clip.

We aren’t anti-gay; we’re pro-marriage

We know they (gays and lesbians) have a problem

So-called gays and lesbians

They have to discipline themselves

It wouldn’t be right for a General Authority to solve the problem that way

If you still don’t see how this is aggressive, consider replacing “gay” with “black” or “women” or “feminist” or some other group.

We aren’t anti-black; we’re pro-white

We know women have a problem

So-called feminists

Feminists have to discipline themselves

It wouldn’t be right for a General Authority to solve the problem with an atheist that way

What are the consequences? Gay Mormons (and many of their allies) will continue to either leave the Church or be kicked out of the Church. Some would argue this is what should happen and this is what makes the world a better place: drive out everything “evil”. Drive out everyone you don’t agree with so you can be surrounded by those who think, act, and believe like you. If that doesn’t work, blame it on the devil; surely he has a hold of their souls. In other words, don’t communicate to them how awesome they are, don’t accept them, don’t tolerate them, and let them continue to be depressed. Who knows. You might get what you wished for: one fewer gay/lesbian member of your congregation and belief. You just might succeed at driving them away.

Next time Boyd K. Packer makes a controversial remark or judgmental look about so-called gays and lesbians, or someone like Gordon B. Hinckley is interviewed by Larry King, or a pamphlet similar to To Young Men Only is published, or a young man or woman weeps in church pews because he or she has no one to turn to, consider the consequences of microaggressions.

Like this:

I thought this was a thought provoking shit people say YouTube video. It highlights a lot of stereotypes people have about gay men. My favorits is when the girl is talking to her boyfriend on the phone and says “He’s probably more attracted to you than he is to me.”

In a not-so-recent discussion with a friend I was asked about my past (a true-believing Mormon or TBM) and how I got to where I am now (partnered to someone of the same sex). That’s not an easy question to answer but I’ll do my best to answer this question. My assumption is many who read my blog have this same question. And before I answer this question I’d like to openly state that my purpose in explaining these things is not recruit any one to my way of thinking; it’s merely to explain for those who would like to understand. Hopefully it will also explain how other people also get from point A to point B in their own “spiritual journeys”.

To start, I’ll take you down memory lane. Around my 18th birthday is when my spiritual journey started. Growing up in Utah, the religion to which I was exposed was the Mormon church. Due to the passing of a family member, I began to take religion more seriously: Is there life after death? Will I be with my family in the after life? Am I worthy to live with them in the Celestial Kingdom? Those are the questions I asked, and I decided the answers to questions were an emphatic yes and subsequently served a full-time mission for the LDS Church. I was called to the Baltic Mission (Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania), served two years, and loved almost about everything about it (at the time). More on that later.

Me on an LDS mission in Estonia

In preparation to serve, I went through the temple in Logan Utah. I think this is when my first doubts about religion began. Sitting in the temple ceremony I asked, “What in the world have I gotten myself into?” I felt like I had hopped on the wrong bus and it was taking me somewhere I wasn’t sure I wanted to go. My main concern was the subordination of women to men and the realization that LDS women will probably never be equal in status to LDS men. If I marry a woman in an LDS temple one day, could I ask her to submit to me? And would I be okay with my role as a mediator between her and God — that her relationship with God would be defined not as a direct relationship with God but her relationship to me as I sort of shield her from God. Another concern was the fact that I couldn’t get up and leave without being stigmatized and without embarrassing my family or letting them down.

LDS temple in Logan, Utah

You see, social pressure is a huge part of Mormonism. I couldn’t acknowledge my true feelings about that experience for fear of being kicked out, both in the literal sense of being kicked out of the temple and in the metaphorical sense of being rejected by Mormons. Actually, I did acknowledge my thoughts to a few close friends shortly after going through the temple for the first time. They asked, “So, what was it like?” and I resisted expected responses like “I felt like I was home” or “I felt so close to heaven”. I said, “I had a testimony of the Church until now.” As another blogger explained, the LDS Church is really good at enforcing social expectations to keep everyone “in the bounds of ‘acceptable’ behavior”. He speculated that the LDS Church provides a place of community (but you have to give up individuality to fit in). So, to fit in, I didn’t talk about those feelings with any one else. I didn’t want to lose friends; good friends are hard to find.

Jaani kirik (St. John's church) in Tartu, Estonia

Castle in Russia as seen across the river from Narva, Estonia

My experience in the Church continued to be one of living up to social expectations. That’s just how it seems to works. As a missionary, I tried to live up to the expectation of being a challenging and testifying missionary. My very first day in the mission field I was challenged by someone from another faith. My testimony about my church was met by the testimony from someone else about her church; she spoke with as much conviction as me. The solution other missionaries seemed to use was to speak down on members of other religions: “He’s such a good person. Too bad he’s Lutheran; he won’t make it to heaven.” As a lay service member of my local congregation (post-mission), I continued to live up to social expectations despite not really feeling all the things I was supposed to be feeling about the Church.

LDS (Mormon) chapel in Tallin, Estonia where I served as a missionary for two years.

What was I supposed to be feeling? No one really seems to know. It’s not science. You’ll just know when you feel it. Boyd K. Packer claimed it’s just like trying to explain what salt tastes like:

Such an idea came into my mind and I said to the atheist, “Let me ask if you know what salt tastes like.”

“Of course I do,” was his reply.

“When did you taste salt last?”

“I just had dinner on the plane.”

“You just think you know what salt tastes like,” I said.

He insisted, “I know what salt tastes like as well as I know anything.”

“If I gave you a cup of salt and a cup of sugar and let you taste them both, could you tell the salt from the sugar?”

“Now you are getting juvenile,” was his reply. “Of course I could tell the difference. I know what salt tastes like. It is an everyday experience—I know it as well as I know anything.”

“Then,” I said, “assuming that I have never tasted salt, explain to me just what it tastes like.”

After some thought, he ventured, “Well-I-uh, it is not sweet and it is not sour.”

“You’ve told me what it isn’t, not what it is.”

My friend, spiritually speaking, I have tasted salt. I am no more able to convey to you in words how this knowledge has come than you are to tell me what salt tastes like.

The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord (Proverbs 20:27). I'm not really sure what that means.

And that’s the whole crux of Mormonism: it’s true because you just know it is even though you can’t really explain how or why. But as a Mormon you can’t stop there. You then have the responsibility to share what you know with others (even if you don’t really know). Packer continued:

Oh, if I could teach you this one principle. A testimony is to be found in the bearing of it! Somewhere in your quest for spiritual knowledge, there is that “leap of faith,” as the philosophers call it. It is the moment when you have gone to the edge of the light and stepped into the darkness to discover that the way is lighted ahead for just a footstep or two.

My service in the Church was exactly that: me telling others what I knew to be true before I ever felt or believed it was true. That is the part of the mission experience I didn’t like. As Viktor Frankl contended, it seemed my whole mission experience was “depict[ing]…God as a being who is primarily concerned with being believed in by the greatest possible number of believers, and along the lines of a specified creed at that” (Man’s Search for Ultimate Meaning, p. 17). Those experiences didn’t stop there, however. I continued my service in the Church for several years after returning home from missionary service. I continued to tell people I knew things I didn’t really believe hoping to have the promised experiences.

So what do I believe now?

Saying that one religion is true is like saying that one point in the evolutionary history of a species is “true.” religions are cultural institutions and as such are subject to eventual and gradual change as they adapt. Those members of the religion that hold counter-productive views will not spread those beliefs and those that have effective, pro-social views will pass on the traits of their religion. This is how a religion, like a species, evolves (B.F. Skinner, Beyond Freedom and Dignity, p 128).

Dan Pearce wrote a blog post a while back on Single Dad Laughing titled I’m Christian, unless you’re gay. In the post he describes a phenomenon I think just about everyone is familiar with. It expresses itself sometimes as “I love gay people (or some other group). I have a gay friend.” Other times it expresses itself as “Love the player, hate the game” or “Love the sinner, hate the sin”. Sometimes it even expresses itself as “You’re a bigot” or “It’s not bigoted of me to defend marriage as between one man and one woman”. And other times it expresses itself as Dan Pearce described. His friend Jacob related to Dan over the phone one day:

“Dan, you are the only friend I have that knows I’m gay… Every single person I’ve told has ditched me. They just disappear… They can’t handle knowing and being friends with a gay person.”

The phenomena is dismissing a person, invalidating their arguments, and withholding humanizing love simply because the person possesses some characteristic you’ve associated with “bad”. The logic is something like this: my religion tells me gay people are bad/sinners and therefore anything they say, do, or believe is bad. But as Dan points out, it’s not specific to religion. So that might mean society tells us people from Mexico are this that or the other and therefore… -or- people who do drugs are this that or the other and therefore…

Today, I want to explain the opposite of what Dan explained. What happens when I reverse the roles and put myself in the shoes of my antagonist: I’m gay, unless you’re Christian. I do it all the time. Does that mean I’m just as “bad” about tolerating others as the Christians (or anyone, really) who don’t tolerate me? I don’t know.

Reading over Pearce’s post helped me consider the possibility that perhaps — just maybe — I’m guilty of the very thing he (and I) accuse Christians (or whoever) of doing. Just maybe. Before I go any further, I’d like to clarify what I mean when I say I’m gay, unless you’re Christian. Some of you will interpret this next part as me — a gay person — complaining about being gay, complaining about the world in which I live, complaining about the way people treat me, and complaining about our laws and other civil rights issues. In short, many of you will be tempted to say “Dude, relax! Not everyone hates you.” So, I’ll start by first pointing out that not everyone hates me; this I know. I had a conversation with my brother a few weeks ago over the phone that left me feeling glad I have the family I have. My mom stopped by for a visit around that same time, which reminded me I’m fortunate to have a mom who is part mama bear (she’ll stand against anything to defend her cubs) and part teddy bear (soft, kind, compassionate). Even my dad, who can be grizzly at times, has been known to defend his cubs — even me, his gay son. One of my grandmas has also been supportive. She called me once to let me know that God still loves me and that she still loves me. Her message to me was direct: life is about loving people.

But there’s something interesting about love. Just as easily as love can knit a sweater to keep you warm on the coldest of days, hate unravels it with a single thoughtless gesture leaving you naked, defenseless, and exposed to judgement. Despite all the warmth extended by friends, family, and Christians, a few conversations — that’s all it takes — leave me feeling homeless and confused from time to time.

So what exactly do I mean when I say I’m gay, unless you’re Christian? For reasons I don’t completely understand, when someone identifies as Christian (of any brand), my stomach cringes, I put my hand in my pocket to hide my ring, and I find every excuse to tap out of the conversation or bail out of the situation. Why? I don’t want them to know I’m gay. Why? I guess it’s because of what Christians say about gay people in general and thus indirectly about me. The part I don’t understand is the fact that I’m surrounded by Christians and — for the most part — they have been supportive, accepting, and tolerant. I have few reasons to believe they would be anything but that.

After acknowledging that most Christians in my life are supportive, accepting, and tolerant, I’d like to go into more detail about how the outliers — the extremists — skew my perspective and cause me to fear the possibilities. Here are a few headlines, some recent and others not so recent:

(Mormon) Michael Crook quotes the Bible to justify his views on gays and lesbians claiming they are criminals. (I’m hesitant to link his blog because he’s been known to stalk any one who speaks against him and posts their personal information on his blog. If you want to find his blog, just Google his name or go to his Twitter page.

Most recently, my sister was married; we took family pictures in front of an LDS temple. I worried what would happen to us as it would be clear from the pictures that Dan and I are a couple. I worried about expressing any affection because of what happened at Temple Square in Salt Lake City.

Everything worked out aside from the dirty looks we got while holding hands on temple grounds.

So maybe — just maybe — I’m no different than those who are “Christian unless you’re gay”. I’m not really sure, but I’m glad there are Christians in my life who are capable of loving and accepting me and who are incapable of saying intolerant things.